


take this longing from my tongue

by MistressKat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Competence Kink, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Meddling Friends, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sheppard Is A Troll, Swimming, Undercover As Prostitute (only briefly though!), Unexpected Skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: Evan Lorne may have a small, entirely harmless crush on a certain snarky, broad-shouldered, extremely competent head of science. So what? It means nothing. He’s certainly never going to act on it. It’s not like it’s aproblemor anything. Except… Maybe it is. And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the only one having it.
Relationships: Evan Lorne/Rodney McKay
Comments: 26
Kudos: 109
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	take this longing from my tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Argosy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argosy/gifts).



> My first Fandom Trumpst Hate fic for argosy who was the highest bidder. The request included pining, competency kink, secret talents and Lorne being an efficient and skilled 2IC, all of which I’ve attempted to incorporate. Thank you to pushkin666 for the title suggestion (from Leonard Cohen’s Take This Longing) and to her and HanHathma for cheerleading as I wrote 70% of the fic in about a week. Many thanks to Fledge for stepping in like a champ to do the beta read and catch many incorrect prepositions...

Evan’s first impression of Dr Rodney McKay takes place in a dark and chilly storeroom in Antarctica. It’s the week before the launch of the Atlantis Expedition and the whole base is gripped by manic preparation and packing, checking and re-checking and then triple-checking-because-your-life-will- _literally_ -depend-on-it everything that can reasonably _be_ checked; equipment, weapons, personnel, calculations, provisions, sanity.   
  
If Evan had more time, he might doubt the latter, but as it is, he’s too busy to do more than have an occasional flash of ‘OMFG Going to Atlantis!’ as his inner ten-year-old, the one who liked to read the Mystic News his Aunt Cecilia subscribed to and then play out the greatest hits in the backyard, flails with glee. But right now there are lists and storage containers and marines and Colonel Sumner isn’t exactly the type to take things easy.   
  
Which is why Evan’s been sent to scour for any weapons, ammo, explosives or other military type of items that may have been overlooked in the first three rounds of packing. They are – rather sensibly – dividing up all the equipment so that each storage container includes ‘things to do science with’, ‘things to protect the scientists with’ and ‘things to survive the in-between with’. Evan’s heard that it was Major Sheppard’s suggestion and gives the man a cautious tick in the plus column, which he frankly needs, considering the scuttlebutt’s got him branded as a hothead flyboy without any discipline. Evan’s always believed in forming his own impressions though so he’s been careful not to get involved in the gossip mill.   
  
It’s impossible to ignore entirely though, which is why he’s fully aware of Dr McKay’s reputation before he’s even properly met the man, beyond seeing him across a meeting table.   
  
‘Brilliant and likes to rub your nose in it’ seems to be the dominant descriptor, with ‘rude bastard’ coming a hot second.   
  
There’s been no mention of a tendency to sit alone in a dark storeroom, hunched over a tablet like some kind of hi-tech cave troll, face illuminated by the faint glow of the screen. The man isn’t even wearing a coat, just the standard fleece the civilian staff sport around the base.   
  
Evan almost clicks the light switch on instinct before he sees him, and then his hand twitches toward his sidearm, also on pure instinct. He’s kind of embarrassed – way to go man, try not to shoot the lead scientist before you’ve even left Earth – but in his defence he really wasn’t expecting anyone to be at… He glances at the door, at Store Unit B-7443.  
  
Oddly, it seems that McKay is entirely unstartled by the sudden intrusion. It appears he hasn’t even noticed the door being opened, which sets all kinds of alarm bells ringing in Evan’s head because that kind of inattention is going to get you killed in the field. He can’t imagine it’s going to be any _less_ dangerous in another galaxy than it is here.   
  
“Excuse me? Dr McKay?” Evan takes a few steps into the room.   
  
Nothing.  
  
A few more steps reveal the reason for McKay’s obliviousness. He’s wearing earphones. Well, one of them; his SGC communicator is sitting in his other ear, which is at least something.  
  
Evan considers his options for a few seconds. There’s really no way of doing this without startling the Doc, but perhaps he can do it in a way that doesn’t result in a heart-attack.   
  
After a brief deliberation, Evan drags one of the few remaining containers – this one labelled ‘milk powder’ so not the kind of thing he’s in search of – and props the door open, letting the light from the corridor spill inside. Then he walks in a wide circle to get into McKay’s field of vision.  
  
He’s watching closely enough to spot the exact moment McKay realises something is different, sees the way the man freezes, deliberately holding himself still as his hand oh so casually drifts toward his communication device. Good, Evan thinks grimly, at least there’s some self-preservation instincts to work with here.   
  
“Dr McKay?” he tries again, this time raising his voice further.   
  
McKay must have cut off whatever audio he had on as this time he looks up straightaway, shoulders visibly relaxing when he recognises Evan’s uniform.   
  
“What?” he snaps, yanking the earphone out. “What are you doing here? Can’t a man get some peace and quiet?” McKay may be relieved that it’s nothing more serious than a random marine disturbing his… whatever he was doing, but he sure as hell isn’t happy about it.   
  
Evan spreads his arms in a placating gesture. “Sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to bother you. Just doing some last minute inventory and requisition.” He waves a clipboard illustratively.   
  
“Too busy banging your heads or arm wrestling to get your jobs done on time?”   
  
Evan blinks. The insult had been casual, and McKay is already refocused on the tablet.   
  
“That’s it,” he drawls over his shoulder, moving to inspect the shelves aligning the walls. “Those barbells don’t lift themselves, you know. _Ooh Rah!_ ” He doubts McKay knows that he’s not a marine, and even if he does, he probably won’t care.  
  
A silence. Then a snort that’s half disbelief and half genuine amusement. Evan allows himself a small victory smile as he moves boxes around.   
  
Five minutes of checking nets him nothing but dehydrated food items and miscellaneous tools. Evan is just turning around another crate, trying to find a label, when McKay sighs, loud enough that the eye-roll is clear even though Evan can’t see his face.   
  
“Left wall,” McKay says. “Third shelf from the top.”   
  
Evan raises his eyebrows to himself but following instructions is a professional skill. Considering these ones come from the head of science division of the expedition to another galaxy that they’re both about to embark on, he doubts this will be the last time he’s going to hear McKay barking them. He ambles over, eyes scanning the third row.  
  
“Far end,” McKay directs, sounding distracted. “Nine mills.”  
  
Right enough, Evan sees the unopened box of ammo and pulls it out. “Thanks,” he says, and then, because might as well, “Is there anything else in here?”  
  
“No.” McKay is tapping away on his tablet when Evan turns around to look. “But there’s a crate of hand grenades in C-578 – what the hell those things are doing in close proximity to my very fragile and very expensive lab equipment, I don’t know, but when I do I’m definitely going to wring the neck of the incompetent bastard responsible – and if you look in the supply closet in Lab Five, you’re going to find some random camo pants someone delivered there by mistake, because apparently your lot can’t logistic themselves out of a wet paper bag.”   
  
Evan blinks again, parses all of that, and feels a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Doc!” he says cheerfully, heading out with the box tucked under his arm.   
  
He takes the time to close the door gently behind him, pleased by the prospect of finishing his task much quicker than expected. And perhaps by McKay’s prickly assistance as well, just a little bit.  
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan’s second impression of Dr McKay consists of angry shouting, hand-waving and saving everyone’s asses from drowning.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan’s third impression of Dr McKay involves angry shouting, a wrench being thrown at a marine and saving everyone’s asses from getting blown to pieces.   
  
The marine had almost touched a wrong crystal at the wrong moment, so the wrench throwing was justifiable. Also, far more accurate than Evan would’ve guessed McKay capable of.  
  
Later, he tears the marine in question a new one. Even he is impressed with how long he manages to make his lecture on _‘And This Is Why We Do Not Fucking Touch Unknown Things On This Floating City’.  
_  
Major Sheppard later congratulates him on it and asks for a cliff notes version for future incidents.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Evan’s fourth impression of McKay includes angry shouting, hand-waving and the cold vacuum of space, from which McKay saves everyone’s asses.  
  
Evan wonders if that means everyone’s asses owe McKay a life debt now, thrice over. Or if McKay owns everyone’s asses.   
  
He kind of… wouldn’t mind.  
  
Then again, he is maybe a little oxygen deprived and that explains a lot.  
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan’s fifth impression of McKay surprisingly involves no mortal danger. As long as no one comes between the man and what appears to be the last cup of coffee in the pot, that is.   
  
It’s probably not yet _The Last Cup of Coffe_ e of the expedition but that time will come and when it does, Evan hopes to be nowhere near any of the scientists.   
  
Contemplatively, he takes a sip of his herbal tea (variations of which can reliably be found on every inhabited planet discovered so far) and observes McKay’s determined, if somewhat weaving march toward the coffee maker. He hasn’t spotted Evan yet, eyes fully trained on the target and not covering his six at all.   
  
Well, it is three in the morning and the mess is deserted and barely lit and up until now Evan had been doing his damndest to blend in with his surroundings.   
  
“Come to me, my precious,” McKay mutters in a more than passable Gollum impression as he pours the coffee into a thermos mug and actually cradles the whole thing for a few seconds like a baby before taking a sip.   
  
Graciously, Evan waits until the mug is securely on the counter before clearing his throat.   
  
McKay visibly jumps, spinning around to squint at the shadows.   
  
“Who’s there?” he demands, taking a few steps forward. “What…? Oh,” he says, finally noticing Evan at the corner table. “It’s you.” He snaps his fingers a few times, clearly trying to remember. “Leonard? Long? Lorelai?”  
  
Evan huffs in amusement. “Lorne,” he offers. “Major Evan Lorne.”  
  
“That’s it.” McKay nods, retreats to fetch his coffee mug and then, to Evan’s surprise, doesn’t immediately leave. “I’ve seen you around. You’re not totally incompetent. Kept hold of the rope in the shuttle, that one time.”  
  
Evan’s eyebrows hike right up to his hairline. He didn’t think McKay could really tell military personnel apart. Or, more to the point, that he didn’t bother to. If he’d had to guess, he would’ve said that for Rodney military was probably divided into ‘Sheppard’ and ‘Not Sheppard’.   
  
“Not letting your team drift into open space was lesson number two,” he says drily.   
  
McKay narrows his eyes at him, then sighs and walks right over and sits down.   
  
Evan’s heart jumps from a sudden burst of adrenaline, and only years of training keeps his body locked in a relaxed seeming sprawl rather than snapping to attention from the sheer unexpectedness of the situation.   
  
“Alright,” McKay says, making a ‘get on with it’ wiggle with his fingers. “I’ll bite. What was the first lesson?”  
  
Evan grins. “Not to go into space at all if you can help it.”  
  
“Well.” McKay’s wide, crooked mouth quirks slightly. “You sure as hell failed that.”  
  
“We both did,” Evan points out.   
  
“Oh no, no.” McKay shakes his head. “I’m an astrophysicist. ‘Get your ass into space’ is basically the only lesson that matters.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Evan holds out his tea mug, pleased when McKay reaches out and taps it with his own thermos.  
  
They finish their drinks in a surprisingly companionable silence.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Things change slightly after that. For one, McKay starts nodding hello to him when they cross paths in the hallways, the mess, catching each other’s eyes across meeting tables. For two, Evan sees him start doing that with others too, letting himself be dragged to movie nights by his team with minimum grumbling, arguing about ice-hockey with Zelenka, lingering on a sunny balcony with Beckett for no other reason than to enjoy the weather and the company.   
  
He’s not the only one of course. Nothing ties a group of humans together more effectively than the need for survival. The Atlantis expedition are making connections across the Pegasus Galaxy and the umbilical cord to Earth is still there, hanging by a thread, but they all know that right now, if it comes down to it, they have nothing but each other to rely on.   
  
Evan isn’t exactly unaffected either. When Sheppard calls him to his de facto office, which is the furthest corner table at the mess with his laptop and three empty coffee mugs, and tells him he’s giving Evan his own team, he isn’t entirely surprised.   
  
He is, however, unable to stop himself from asking “Really, sir? Are you sure?”  
  
Sheppard does him the courtesy of thinking it through one more time. “Major Lorne,” he says after a minute of silence during which Evan has clocked Sheppard’s team, McKay included, getting food and sitting down in direct line of sight with a chair left free. Apparently, Evan’s questioning is keeping his CO from his team lunch.   
  
“Yes, sir?” Evan asks, eyes snapping back to Sheppard’s face.   
  
“Correct me if I’m wrong…” Sheppard tilts his head slightly. “But I get the impression that you never held any ambitions of being second-in-command of an interstellar expedition, in charge of security of a floating city that is as likely to kill us as it is to protect us?”   
  
“No, sir,” Evan answers truthfully. “I did not.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sheppard sighs. “Thought as much.” His face is tired, etched with sympathy. “Lucky for me, you’re doing a hell of a job at it anyway,” he says.  
  
It occurs to Evan that neither of them sought the positions they were thrust into. Sumner’s death triggered a lot of things, many of them devastating, but maybe not all of them totally awful. Colonel Sumner had been a good man, a good commander, but Evan can’t help but think that Atlantis would be a very different place with him as the highest-ranking military officer rather than Sheppard.   
  
“Thank you,” he says, warmed by what he knows is no empty compliment, not from Sheppard. “As are you, sir. If you don’t mind me saying so.”  
  
The ever-present smirk hiding in the corner of Sheppard’s mouth blooms into a fully-fledged grin. “Then trust me,” he says, “I’ve thought it through and yes, you’re getting your own gate team. In fact, once you’re established, we want to start looking at training more teams.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Well, Evan talked himself into a corner with this one. Not that he minds. “Go on then,” he says. “I’m guessing you had some people in mind for my gate team?” He has to admit, it does have a nice ring to it.  
  
  
***   
  
  
Sheppard indeed gives him suggestions, good ones, though he also says that the final call is Lorne’s and that if he wants someone else, Sheppard will hear him out.  
  
Evan is pretty sure it won’t be necessary.  
  
Cadman is a no-brainer and would have made the top of Evan’s list even without Sheppard’s endorsement. She’s good at what she does but more than that, she’s not afraid to question his orders or offer opinions when she thinks there’s a better way of doing things. Evan wants someone watching his six who can think and not just obey, so he’s happy when Cadman replies with an excited ‘Hell yes, sir!’ almost before the question is fully out of his mouth.   
  
Seeing Parrish’s name among Sheppard’s suggestions is also no surprise. He’d been making increasingly vocal treaties for going off world, typically with several references to the potential of plants to solve all the problems of Atlantis. He’s enthusiastic and Evan foresees having to stop him from charging towards vegetation without care for his safety a lot, but his field evaluations are decent and there actually is a lot of long-term value in unleashing a qualified botanist on the alien flora.   
  
In the end, Evan doesn’t even bother asking. He just shows up at Parrish’s lab and casually throws him a holster (sans the weapon obviously). “C’mon,” he says, grinning. “We better make sure you still remember which end of the gun to hold if you’re coming into the field with us.”  
  
Parrish gapes at him and the holster in his hands for five seconds before his face rearranges itself from confusion to delight and he lets out a boyish “ _Whoo!_ ”  
  
The final person, however, is more unexpected. Unknown too, as Evan can’t say he’s ever spoken to Dr Kusanagi. He knows who she is, having made a point to memorise names and faces, but he pulls out her records from the personnel database anyway. The photo is much like the real thing; a slight, pretty woman with huge glasses and serious expression, who Evan has typically seen working with Zelenka. Skim of her qualifications and areas of expertise shows an impressive resume. On paper she would definitely be an asset, but Evan likes to know the people he works with and at the moment he’s got nothing on Kusanagi.   
  
Sheppard doesn’t either. “She was McKay’s suggestion,” he says with a shrug when Evan contacts him with the query. “He said, and I quote: ‘brilliant but unconfident.’”  
  
It’s an excuse – a valid reason, Evan corrects himself – to track down McKay and ask him about it directly.   
  
He finds Rodney in his lab, bickering with Zelenka in a way that Evan recognises as their version of friendly workplace chatter. Whatever they’re working on, it doesn’t seem life-or-death level urgent so he doesn’t feel too bad for interrupting.   
  
“She’s good,” Zelenka says after hearing Evan’s question. “I second Dr McKay’s recommendation.” He nods a little, pushing up his glasses which are permanently sliding down his nose.  
  
Reassuring as that is, it doesn’t really address Evan’s main concerns. “There are nothing _but_ good and brilliant scientists on this expedition,” he points out, spreading his arms to encompass the labs around them. “Why her? And what did you mean by ‘unconfident’?”   
  
McKay huffs. “She’s like a dormouse. A brilliant one, but I can’t afford a dormouse on my team. I need someone who is going to speak up and not flinch every time I bark.”  
  
“Which you do a lot,” Zelenka says drily.   
  
“Which I do all the time,” McKay agrees, not a hint of remorse on his face. “I thought a little field experience would toughen her up. And she _is_ good.”  
  
Evan frowns. He gets the logic – it’s after all a mirror of his earlier thoughts on Cadman – but at the same time… “This team isn’t here to facilitate your staff development,” he says. “I don’t know if…”  
  
“Kusanagi!” McKay is touching his communicator. “Get here right away, I need you to do something.”  
  
Evan barely has time to blink before Kusanagi scuttles into the lab. “What is it, Dr McKay?” she asks, breathless.  
  
“Here.” Rodney tosses her an ancient artefact of some kind. “Activate that.”   
  
Kusanagi catches it from the air deftly and it lights up as soon as her hands close around it.   
  
“This too,” Zelenka calls and throws another artefact.   
  
She catches and activates that too, the lights reflecting from her glasses, making them almost opaque.   
  
“We think they work together somehow,” Rodney says. “Figure it out.”  
  
Kusanagi frowns, glancing nervously at Evan who is standing to the side, observing.   
  
“Oh, never mind him,” Rodney says. “He’s just here for… security,” he finishes lamely.   
  
Zelenka snorts into his fist and hurriedly turns back to the calculations on the whiteboard.   
  
Kusanagi doesn’t exactly seem reassured but her focus shifts to the two items she’s holding. She takes them to one of the side tables, plucking out tools and scanners, soon wholly engrossed in the task.   
  
Evan watches for a couple of minutes and then turns to Rodney. “If you’re trying to make a point, I don’t see it,” he confesses quietly.   
  
“Patience, Major Lorne,” Rodney mutters, his voice low enough and suddenly _close enough_ to sound almost… intimate. “Admittedly, it’s not a virtue I have, but I would imagine someone in your position would be more used to waiting for a good thing…”  
  
Evan is so distracted by the long line of heat as McKay leans close to admonish him that the words themselves take a few seconds to penetrate. When they do, he can feel his eyebrows hike right up. If Evan didn’t know better, if it was anyone but McKay, he’d almost think…  
  
“Got it!” Kusanagi’s enthusiastic cry interrupts that train of thought effectively.   
  
“And there you go,” Rodney says, smugly. He’s a good two steps away again, as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.   
  
Zelenka is poking at the artefacts with Kusanagi now, nodding as she talks through her discovery. “Whilst the energy signatures are different, there’s enough frequency overlap that if you align them, you get…”   
  
The explanation goes right over Evan’s head but judging by the quirk on McKay’s lips it’s more than satisfying.   
  
“Good,” he says brusquely. “Sounds like something Renqvist and Holm could use on their project. You might as well go assist them with it now.”  
  
Kusanagi smiles, ducking her head at the offhand praise, and scurries out of the room, a still glowing artefact under each arm.   
  
“I still don’t get it,” Evan says. “I admit that that was impressively speedy problem solving but nothing you…”   
  
“Rodney lied,” Zelenka interrupts him, smiling.  
  
“What?”  
  
McKay sighs, but in the manner one does after a satisfying meal. “I lied to her just now. There was nothing to suggest the two artefacts were in anyway compatible or meant to be used together. But she made it happen anyway. In…” He glances at his tablet. “Under five minutes.”  
  
Evan blinks, gaze wandering between McKay’s and Zelenka’s identical smug grins. They look like proud parents.   
  
Evan can feel his own mouth stretching into a matching expression. “Point well made,” he concedes. “Where’s this project you sent her to oversee?” Because that’s very obviously what had happened there, in retrospect. “Seems I’ve got a question to ask Dr Kusanagi…”  
  
“Lab fifteen,” Zelenka answers.   
  
“Don’t let her say no!” Rodney yells after him.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan loves having a team of his own. Sure, in a way the whole of Atlantis’ military contingent is his, but it’s not the same.   
  
After the inevitable adjustment period, they settle into a rhythm. Sheppard sends them on relatively low risk gate missions at first during which Evan and Cadman have little else to do except ensure Parrish and Kusanagi don’t trip over ruins or tree branches. After the first time they survive an unexpected Wraith Dart training exercise on an uninhabited planet though, the missions get a bit more active.   
  
Evan has always enjoyed developing his staff and it’s a pleasure to watch his team grow into their own. Parrish’s persuasion skills turn out to be useful in all sorts of negotiations and Cadman often comes up with solutions to tricky situations that, surprisingly, don’t involve any explosions at all. Kusanagi, as per Rodney’s predictions, blossoms out of the lab. It only takes Evan a few times of pointedly asking ‘What do you think we should do?’ before she starts offering her opinions freely.   
  
Some of the credit must go to Cadman though. She strikes up a friendship with Kusanagi, barrelling cheerfully through her reserve and shyness with comments about how great it is to have another woman on the team, especially one who can appreciate the finer points of exothermic reaction, and how about a girls’ night next week, there’s a movie showing.  
  
Evan gets the impression that Miko isn’t someone who has made friends easily in the past and isn’t quite sure what to do with this many of them all at once. Still, it’s a good problem to have, amidst the more life-threatening ones they normally encounter.   
  
Another unexpected consequence of having his own away team is working more closely with Sheppard’s. As his 2IC, Evan obviously talks to Sheppard frequently but now that expands to the rest of his team as well. Teyla and Ronon are easy to get along with and provide valuable intelligence on the Pegasus Galaxy. And Rodney…  
  
Well, Evan isn’t going to lie and say he isn’t at least a little bit giddy to have a timetabled reason to spend time with McKay. And it’s fine, because at the most this is a harmless crush. One that’s clearly never going to go anywhere anyway, and one that Evan has completely under control. He may let himself admire the way Rodney handles anything from power crystals to pens, from pliers to weapons, his hands looking surprisingly steady and competent around the Glock during training and not much worse at all the following day when all of them end up having to draw their guns on some enterprising robbers on MX-8820. And he may let his attention linger on the wide slant of Rodney’s mouth, the way it crooks at the corner, curling either in dismay or amusement. And he may, sometimes, not very often at all, think about having those deft hands on him, about tasting the curve of Rodney’s lips, coaxing them open and finding out if he’d be as vocal, as bossy and demanding and _brilliant_ at kissing as he is about everything else and if…  
  
When McKay needs to get to one of the lower level rooms to access a specific power panel, Evan tags along. For security, obviously. When McKay loses one of his tablets, Evan has a quiet word with one of the junior scientists who thought college pranks were an appropriate pastime on Atlantis and hadn’t quite thought through the consequences of hiding equipment – even as non-essential as this – from the head of science division. When McKay takes a liking to the deep-fried pastries they come across on one of the planets, Evan gets the recipe from the local bakers and convinces the cooks on Atlantis to have a go. Three days later they appear as part of the breakfast selection and if seeing the pure, unadulterated _bliss_ on Rodney’s face when he bites into one leaves Evan a little dazed, then it’s nothing. He liked those pastries too, lots of people did. It means nothing, and no amount of eyebrow raising from his team and – dear lord – _Sheppard_ , is going to faze him. Evan maintains a perfectly bland expression and admits to nothing, placidly scrolling through the mission briefing on his tablet and drinking his tea.  
  
He is a professional and completely capable of maintaining a professional relationship with McKay, no matter how nice the man’s arms look in his standard issue blue t-shirt. Did they have to make them that form-fitting, anyway?  
  
The point is, it’s not a problem. And Evan is certainly not going to allow it to become one.  
  
  
***  
  
  
That decision lasts for about three weeks. And then they arrive on MX579-2, or Maa’il as the locals call it.  
  
The weather is hot and dry, typical of the season, they are told, but come back in a few months’ time and the torrential rain will drench you to your skin in seconds.   
  
Evan has no reason to doubt the townspeople but it does seem like a myth right now with the sun beating down on them, the air shimmering with heat.   
  
“It’s true,” McKay says under his breath. “First time we were here I spent the whole week getting chafed by permanently damp underwear.”   
  
Evan huffs in amusement, decidedly not letting his mind wander to McKay’s underwear for any longer than strictly permitted within the boundaries of a friendly joke.   
  
Both his and Sheppard’s teams have accompanied Dr Weir on an official ‘state visit’ to Maa’il, the purpose of which is to establish a full trade agreement. Evan has also arranged for an extra team of marines to join them, mostly to babysit the extra group of scientists McKay had insisted on bringing. The Kan’sa are a peaceful people, or at least no more quarrelsome than humans. The leaders had been upfront about past skirmishes and a couple of outright wars, although – unlike on Earth – such disagreements only tended to last until the next culling. Nothing brings peace and unity like a common enemy, after all, and if the Wraith could be considered to have a silver lining that was probably it.   
  
Right now, everyone is enjoying – or stuck at, depending on your point of view – the intricate welcome ceremony and dinner. Maa’il is a matriarchal society and Weir, along with Teyla, Cadman, Kusanagi and other female marines and scientists are seated at the top of the long table. Weir had insisted on bringing Sheppard along and there is the odd male Kan’sa or two among the female leaders too, a sign of changing times.  
  
“Kind of… challenging, seeing it from this angle. But in a good way,” Evan comments, carefully sipping at the soup they’ve been served. The taste is rich and savoury, with a strong kick at the end that is making his nose run and, he suspects, cheeks flush.   
  
“Yeah,” McKay agrees, sniffing. His face is pink from the spice but he shows no signs of slowing down, enthusiastically slurping at the soup. “Makes me want to call Jeannie and apologise for rolling my eyes every time she complained about sexism in academia.”   
  
Evan nods and resolves to have a frank chat with Cadman and the other female officers. To his eyes there is no problem on Atlantis in regard to gender but he suspects his eyes aren’t seeing very well when it comes to this.  
  
“Whoo!” McKay downs the rest of his soup and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the thoughtfully provided cloth. The locals chuckle at them good-naturedly. “That was great,” McKay comments, in an off-hand way that is both genuine praise and not meant as such. The Kan’sa men accept it anyway, preening with delight.   
  
“You like spicy food, Doctor McKay?” one of them asks, leaning across the table.   
  
“Oh yes, I… _Oooh_ what are these?” McKay gets distracted by a tray of dumplings, sitting in a sauce of some kind. “Are they spicy too?” Without waiting for an answer, he waves a scanner over the tray, notes “No citrus, excellent!” and pops one into his mouth.   
  
Evan observes with interest the way his nostrils flare, sweat springs up at his hairline and his cheeks take on an even deeper pink hue. He swears that if he looks hard enough he can see the steam rising from McKay’s ears.   
  
“Hot?” he asks, unable to suppress his laughter.   
  
“Yessss,” McKay wheezes around a mouthful. He chews and swallows and breaks into a beatific smile. “I love it. Reminds me of Indian food.” The Kan’sa men let out a sigh of relief, having noted McKay’s culinary distress with some concern.   
  
“What is India?” Per’lin asks. He is, as far as Evan can tell, head of the main household, the Kan’sa equivalent of town hall or council house. He isn’t the main matriarch’s husband, who is sitting by her left at the top of the table, wearing a lovely flower crown, but Evan strongly suspects Per’lin fits into that arrangement somehow other than just as a trusted official.   
  
“India is a country, a region of the planet, where we come from,” McKay explains. “And among other things like key developments in mathematics, they are known for spicy and delicious food, not too dissimilar to yours.”   
  
Per’lin and others look interested and the conversation switches to different Earth and Maa’il cultures and food traditions for a long while, everyone contributing stories and information. Evan is in the middle of trying to explain the cultural melting pot that is the United States to the elderly man opposite him, when Per’lin’s question catches his attention.   
  
“So if you are from… Caan’ada?” Per’lin’s pronunciation leaves something to be desired but Evan is pretty sure that they are slaughtering most of the Kan’sa terms and grateful when McKay doesn’t comment either. “How did you learn to like Indian food so much?”  
  
“Oh,” McKay says, casual as you please. “I dated a guy from there for a while. He roomed with me during his doctoral exchange programme, and you know, one thing led to another.”   
  
Evan chokes on a piece of flatbread, one of the only non-incendiary food items on offer.  
  
“He made the best curries, I swear.” McKay gets a dreamy look in his eyes which Evan notices because he has now turned to stare at him openly. Distantly, he’s aware of his heart rate, which has kicked up a notch or three.  
  
“Last time I heard Arush was a maths professor at the Indian Institute of Science,” McKay continues. “Done well for himself.” He finally seems to notice Evan’s open look of… Well, maybe not _surprise_ , because he’d had a _feeling_ , but… something, some level of _panic_ at McKay’s casual admission in an unknown and possibly hostile environment, and what if the Kan’sa aren’t accepting of…  
  
Evan casts a quick evaluative look at the faces of the men around him but none show anything but benevolent curiosity at the tales of strange lands and customs. Evan sighs internally in relief and then thinks to check the faces of the Lanteans around them as well. Most are still preoccupied with their own conversations, ignorant of the internal drama their CO is going through. Those who have heard and noted McKay’s casual coming out only offer a raised eyebrow in Evan’s direction, any potential amusement dropping off in the face of his scowl that promises endless toilet cleaning for those who think to take exception.   
  
McKay has clearly finally registered something is amiss because he is giving him a narrowed side-eye by the time Evan is done with browbeating everyone into submission. However, before he has a chance to say anything about it, the matriarch Leraleen stands up, calling everyone’s attention to her. It seems they’ve reached the speech portion of the evening and conversations around the table dry up quickly. Evan too forces his focus both to what is being said and to the reactions on the faces of the dignitaries and the common folk around them.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Of course, that isn’t the end of it, which Evan should have realised. As it is, he’s been kind of busy organising a rota of marines to accompany Weir and Sheppard discreetly, and the rest of the scientists around the town and surrounding countryside, trying and failing at keeping cool in the weather reminiscent of July in Mexico, and processing the implications of McKay’s revelation. On one hand, the confirmation that McKay is interested in men as well as women – everyone knows about his epic crush on Carter – doesn’t have to change anything. On the other hand… Well. It does suggest certain possibilities that were easier to disregard previously as too unlikely to bother entertaining.   
  
Before, Evan’s idle daydreams were nothing he ever thought even theoretically possible.   
  
Now, they are probably still _practically_ impossible. As in, Evan still doesn’t think McKay would be specifically interested in someone like him – decidedly not a maths professor – but at least in general his gender wouldn’t be the deciding factor.   
  
He’s not exactly sure if that’s better or worse. It is pretty distracting though, which is why he’s totally blindsided when McKay sidles up to him a few days later and bluntly demands to know if there’s a problem.   
  
Evan blinks, takes in McKay’s defensive posture, shoulders around his ears and arms crossed tightly, his voice cold enough to be downright frosty, and blinks again.   
  
“What?” he asks, sounding as confused as he feels. “What problem? Has something happened?” He casts a look around but finds nothing alarming. They are touring the town’s shared gardens and orchards, Parrish clearly having the time of his life, collecting samples and deep in conversation with the gardeners. Up ahead Weir and Sheppard are talking to Leraleen and her advisors, presumably about trade details, which Evan hopes includes a shipment of the sweet and bright yellow kerkei fruit they’ve had a chance to taste.   
  
McKay is gaping at him. “Has something…?” He takes a deep breath, arms relaxing in order for him to gesticulate at the air between them in frustration. “Don’t think I didn’t see your face the other night, _Major_ , when I mentioned an ex- _boyfriend_. If you’re going to be a homophobic dick about it like the military machine behind you, I’d like to know now. Would make it much easier for everyone in the long run.”  
  
It’s Evan’s turn to stare. “I… That…” _Jesus_ , he thinks, _pull yourself together!_ “I was only worried in case the Kan’sa didn’t accept same-sex relationships and we were going to have some kind of diplomatic situation on our hands because of what you said. Christ, McKay, did you not think of your safety before just blurting that out?”  
  
McKay’s expression has softened considerably during Evan’s little speech. “Oh,” he says, “okay then.” His shoulders lower and everything about him unclenches. “And for your information, I didn’t just ‘blurt it out’. It came up as a natural part of the conversation. And,” he wags a smug finger at Evan’s nose, “we’d been introduced to no less than three same-sex couples on our first visit. At least one larger poly arrangement too. Pretty sure that was in the ‘culture and customs’ section of the briefing even.”  
  
Alright, now Evan feels two types of fool. He could’ve sworn he’d at least _skimmed_ that section of the briefing but… Clearly not.   
  
“Ah,” he says, simultaneously embarrassed and embarrassingly pleased by McKay’s smirk. He blames the ridiculous mess of emotions for what blurts out of _his_ mouth next. “Also, it would be highly hypocritical of me to be homophobic. Biphobic. Uh, you know what I mean.” Evan snaps his mouth shut in horror, barely restraining himself from slapping a hand over it for good measure.   
  
He and McKay are some ways off from anyone else and there’s no danger of anyone overhearing, so that’s not what he’s worried about. He’s worried about McKay’s reaction. He’s worried about sounding like he’s coming on to the man, when he isn’t. Is he? No. He could be but… Not like this, not by implicitly suggesting ‘Hey so turns out both of us quite like some dick, want to take advantage of that?’ and now he’s thinking of dicks, which is not conducive either to this conversation or to his current duties and he can only hope there is no Wraith attack right now because…  
  
“I… do. I think I do.” McKay interrupts Evan’s chaotic thoughts. He looks surprised, but not like he’s trying to think of reasons to turn down Evan’s accidental maybe come-on. “I’m sorry,” he says in the end, brusque but sincere. “I was making some assumptions of my own there.”  
  
“That’s… No worries,” Evan says, faintly. “Think nothing of it.”   
  
McKay nods and, clearly considering their discussion over, walks over to harangue Kusanagi who is investigating the irrigation system, Cadman keeping watch from the shadow of the nearby kerkei trees.   
  
Evan is reasonably sure he just came out to McKay, which… is probably a good thing. Too bad he’s also reasonably sure that the revelation didn’t resonate with McKay at any level beyond the purely factual.   
  
Oh well. He bites the inside of his cheek and shoves the disappointment down into a little box in his mind. Right now, he has work to do.  
  
  
***   
  
  
The Kan’sa, however, turn out to be firm believers in midday rest and relaxation.   
  
And in public nudity.   
  
Okay, so the public nudity seems thematically tied to swimming as people who are dozing, chatting and eating under the shade cast by kerkei trees and canvas covers seem at least partly dressed. But anyone heading into or out of the nearby lake does so without a stitch on them.   
  
“Come, come. This way.” Their hosts are beckoning them toward a large awning set close to the shoreline, with a lavish picnic already waiting. “We rest here. Eat. Swim. The waters are refreshing.”   
  
Evan has a quick word with Sheppard and dispatches some of the marines to guard the perimeter. It’s really just an excuse to give those most uncomfortable with this level of bare flesh a reason to look the other way without being impolite about it. Jacobsen and Bahri nod their thanks and hastily retreat to the treeline.   
  
Evan makes his way over to the others, most of whom have sat down, loosening some clothes at least. Over to the side, Weir has steered the conversation to cultural differences, in a clear attempt to ensure that no one is offended by Atlantean expedition members choosing wet underwear over nudity.   
  
Some have no problem with it though. Many of the marines strip with the routine of years in shared barracks, running to the water as soon as Parrish, who has scanned a sample just to be on the safe side, gives the thumbs up.   
  
Ronon shrugs and follows suite, seemingly unaware of the number of admiring looks he gathers, diving off the short pier.   
  
In the end, most of the expedition gives into the temptation of cool water. Even Kusanagi strips down to her underwear, when Evan would’ve bet good money she would be too shy for it.   
  
“Sentō,” she offers as an explanation, when she notices Evan’s surprise. “The public bathhouses are usually gender segregated but…” She shrugs and skims out of her undershirt, running toward the lake in nothing but bra and underpants.   
  
Well. Evan blinks. He’s not sure if this is the kind of confidence Zelenka and McKay had in mind but…  
  
As if on cue, Rodney’s raised voice draws his attention. Evan ambles closer and finds him, Sheppard and Teyla sitting cross-legged by the food.   
  
“It’s not good to swim on a full stomach,” Sheppard is saying, pulling a dish away from Rodney.   
  
“And I keep telling you, I don’t plan on going swimming,” Rodney huffs, reaching for the food. He’s too slow though, fingers closing over thin air as Sheppard deftly passes the bowl to Teyla, who hides it behind her.  
  
“Is it because you can’t?” Sheppard asks, mock solicitously. “Because that’s a risk we can’t accept. Maybe I should ask Major Lorne here to teach you?”  
  
Evan chokes a little on the drink he’d taken a mouthful of.   
  
“What?! I… No! I mean…” McKay honestly looks like he’s about to growl. “Don’t be childish! You know perfectly well I can swim, we all had to take the test before even being considered for the expedition!”  
  
“But that was so long ago…” Sheppard tilts his head to the side. “Maybe you’ve forgotten?”  
  
“You don’t just forget how to swim! It’s like riding a bike. Just… Gimme those!” Rodney makes a swipe at another dish, only to find Teyla tugging the tray out of reach.   
  
“You are looking quite flushed,” she observes. “I believe John’s suggestion of a swim is a good one.”  
  
Rodney looks at his team mates and then sighs. “You’re not going to let me eat until I’ve gone for a swim, are you?” he says, resignedly. Evan spreads his arms, protesting his innocence when Rodney casts a narrow-eyed look in his direction for good measure.  
  
“Nope,” Sheppard answers, cheerily popping one of the small pastry parcels into his mouth. “C’mon, McKay, you don’t want heat stroke, it will help cool you down. Just…” He shields his eyes and points at a large rock some distance from the shore. “Swim to there and back. I’ll even save you some of these.” He wags another pastry at Rodney before eating it himself.   
  
Teyla smiles. “There are no dangerous animals in the lake,” she says, clearly anticipating the next protest.  
  
Rodney purses his lips unhappily.   
  
“Fine. Fine!” Without any fanfare, he yanks off his shirt, movements jerky with irritation. “I’m going swimming. God, this is like school PE again.”   
  
Evan is distantly glad he’d had the foresight to put down his mug of water after the first coughing fit, because in no way is he prepared for the spectacle of McKay’s bare chest less than six feet away. Not to mention the matter of fact way he unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants and lets them puddle at his ankles. He gets briefly tangled in trying to take his shoes and socks off at the same time, feet still in pants legs, and Evan is treated to the sight of Rodney’s ass, covered in standard issue grey boxers and curving beautifully when he bends down to undo his laces.   
  
Despite having had a drink less than a minute ago, Evan finds his mouth suddenly bone dry. When he swallows, it sounds as loud as the click of a trigger, at least to his own ears.   
  
Rodney makes a noise halfway between a growl and a curse word as he finally kicks off the last of his garments and then stands there with hands on his hips in nothing but underwear. The sound, and the sight, go straight to Evan’s dick and demolish the last vestiges of plausible deniability on their way.  
  
Slowly, he sinks down to the ground, hoping it comes across as him just deciding to sit down and not simply his knees giving out as he watches the muscles in Rodney’s back, the surprising span of his shoulders and – sweet _Jesus_ – the bounce of his ass as Rodney stomps off toward the water.   
  
For a while, there’s silence. Then Sheppard offers him one of the pastries, which Evan distractedly accepts.   
  
“He’s actually a pretty good swimmer,” Sheppard says. “But don’t take my word for it.”  
  
It takes a few moments but eventually Evan manages to tear his eyes from Rodney’s retreating back and turn his head to the side… To find his CO looking at him expectantly.  
  
“…What?”  
  
“Go. Watch. Him. Swim.” Sheppard says, enunciating carefully as if giving instructions to a particularly dim child. “I mean, you’re welcome and all, but you’re not getting the full show if you stay here.”  
  
Evan gawps. He’s not proud about it but… He _gawps_. Because his _commanding officer_ just more or less admitted to setting up…   
  
Evan scrambles back to his feet and heads toward the pier at a pace he tries and probably fails to keep casual. At some point in the not too distant future he’s going to have to reflect on Sheppard’s actions and maybe have an incredibly awkward talk with him to boot, but right now he needs to see Rodney swim.  
  
After all, it had practically been an order to do so.  
  
Evan aims for the pier, trying to look like he’s simply enjoying the light breeze from the lake and the spectacular scenery. Unlike Ronon and the marines, Rodney is clearly not one for showy dives and simply wades into the water, audibly exclaiming about the temperature and splashing the water at his – unfairly well-shaped – arms, much to the amusement of the gaggle of kids avidly observing the strangers.   
  
Evan ambles down the pier, parallel to Rodney in the water but just behind enough that Rodney doesn’t notice. Or at least Evan hopes that’s the case because he’s not sure what his face is saying right now but it’s definitely not casual.   
  
Rodney actually squeals when the water reaches mid-thigh and Evan can see the way he sucks in his stomach at the coolness against overheated skin. By the time he’s waist deep, he simply pushes off, smoothly dipping under the water and resurfacing a good twelve feet away.  
  
Sheppard was right; McKay _is_ a good swimmer. He’s not very fast, but then again he’s clearly not trying to be. His form is strong and eats distance at a steady crawl as he heads off toward the rock Sheppard had set as the goal.   
  
Evan stays at the end of the pier, tracking Rodney all the way there, around it and half-way back, watching the way his arms cleave through the water.   
  
He leaves when Rodney is close enough to notice him if he were to look up long enough, walking unseeing through the crowd of naked and half-clad people and straight past the canopy where McKay’s and his teams are waiting.   
  
“I’m taking over, go get some lunch,” he tells Bahri once he reaches the treeline.   
  
“But sir, I don’t…”   
  
“I don’t care _where_ you have your lunch,” Evan snaps. Then he forces himself to take a slow breath. “You don’t have to go to the beach,” he adds, more kindly. It’s not Bahri’s fault his commanding officer is having a mild crisis. “Just… go rest. I’ve got this.”  
  
“…Yes, sir,” Bahri says. Evan hears his footsteps retreating.   
  
Then it’s just him. And the lingering image of Rodney, standing in the lake with water clinging to his skin, sunlight pinking the tops of his shoulders.   
  
“Fuck,” Evan says softly to himself. This… may actually be a problem.   
  
  
***   
  
  
The good thing about Atlantis is that any problems you may have are quickly replaced by new, and usually bigger, problems.   
  
“Fall back! Fall back!”  
  
Evan is shouting loud enough that his throat hurts, but he can still barely hear himself over the high-pitched whine that is filling the corridor. The unit of marines he’s got with him today doesn’t need much encouragement though, all of them running now, hands over their ears and heads tucked low.   
  
The noise rises and falls, an eerie ululating quality to it that sets Evan’s teeth on edge and makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Once the last man is past him, he finally follows, feeling like his skull is about to explode from the pressure of the noise. The doors closing behind them ease it somewhat, the second set a bit more still but it’s not until they’re five corridors away, with five sets of doors between them that the infernal wail of the siren or whatever it was that they’d accidentally triggered fades away entirely.   
  
At least nothing has exploded so far, though Evan fears it may just be a matter of time.   
  
He activates his communicator, patching straight through to Sheppard. “Sir. You may want to tell Dr Weir and McKay that we’ve got an issue in section E-588.”  
  
“What kind of an issue, Major?” Sheppard asks.   
  
“A loud one.”  
  
  
***   
  
  
“What did you do?” McKay’s voice is the kind of shrill that makes Evan’s still ringing ears hurt. His hair is standing up like he just got out of bed  
  
Evan glances at the time. Four pm. He raises his eyebrows. “Did you just wake up?”  
  
“Yes!” Rodney snaps. “Because I fell asleep _less than two hours ago_.”   
  
“There was a problem with the shields in one of the lower sections,” Miko explains. She’s holding her glasses in one hand and pinching the bridge of her nose with the other. On closer inspection, she and Radek also appear exhausted and dishevelled.   
  
Evan feels kind of bad for adding to the sleep deprivation even though it’s not his fault.   
  
“We didn’t do anything we haven’t done before when charting the city,” he says. “Ferguson – she’s the one with the gene – got the doors open no problem. She went in first, reported a mostly empty room, we followed. And then…” He makes a gesture with his hands miming something exploding. “It was like being inside an air raid siren. One that was made of thousands of other sirens, each with a different sound. Dr Beckett says at least two people, Ferguson included, ruptured their ear drums.” He’d been spared that but was probably in for a couple of days of tinnitus.   
  
“That’s it?” McKay looked suspicious. “No… flashing lights, no moving parts, no warnings?”   
  
“Well, I figured the noise was a pretty unsubtle warning in itself,” Evan remarks drily.   
  
“This is the section,” Zelenka says. He and Kusanagi have brought up city schematics on the screen. “Officially it seems to have been labelled ‘storage’.” He shrugs. “There’s nothing to indicate anything unusual was kept there based on the database.”  
  
“Oh yes, because the Ancients were so transparent about their record keeping,” Sheppard mutters. Next to him, Weir’s mouth twitches into a smile.   
  
“Does anything look like it’s going to go ‘boom’ in the next hour or so?” she asks. “Or release some kind of biological, chemical or radiation weapon? Evolve a new life form? Summon the Wraith ships?”  
  
McKay and the others survey the readings. “Probably not,” he finally concedes. “Everything looks… normal. No changes to heat signatures or the air composition. If not for Lorne’s bleeding ears, I would say this was just another storage room among hundreds in that section.”  
  
“Pretty fancily decorated for a storage room,” Evan mutters under his breath.   
  
McKay’s head whips around to stare at him. “What did you say?”  
  
Evan blinks. “Uh… Just… It didn’t look like a storeroom? There were lots of…” He sketches pictures in the air with his hands. “Murals around the walls. Like abstract art.”  
  
Everyone is staring at him now.   
  
“You didn’t think to mention this before?” Sheppard asks, and it’s as close as he’s ever come to an actual reprimand so that Evan snaps to attention on pure instinct. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “I didn’t think it was important.” He should have though.   
  
McKay waves an impatient hand. “Never mind that now,” he says. “Can you describe them?”  
  
Evan tries. But turns out no one else in the room has been to art college and understands what ‘a cross between Islamic arabesque and geometric abstraction’ really means, though Weir probably comes the closest.  
  
“One of the walls was divided into different colours, but inside each there were these repeating patterns and—”  
  
“Okay, this is making no sense.” McKay runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. “Can’t we just send in a M.A.L.P. to get a picture?”  
  
“Still needs someone with a gene to open the doors,” Kusanagi points out. “Do we have ear plugs good enough?”  
  
“We could…”  
  
“Or I could just draw it,” Evan interrupts.   
  
Rodney narrows his eyes at him. “Can you?” he asks, deliberately provocative. “It’s going to have to be detailed enough for us to do an image search on the database.”  
  
Evan meets his gaze head on, feeling his shoulders draw back, his pulse pick up. God, he loves a challenge. Loves it when someone challenges him too.   
  
“It will be,” he promises. “I’m going to need a large enough piece of paper though. And some coloured pens. At least red and yellow. Blue too.”  
  
Once he sits down with the supplies, Evan is briefly annoyed by the others hovering over his shoulders, but as always when he starts to draw, awareness of anything else fades quickly.   
  
He resurfaces some time later, a crick in his neck and wrist. The paper in front of him is full, divided into five sections and a riot of colour and shapes. He’d only been in the room for a minute or so until the alarm had gone off, but Evan has a near eidetic memory for visual data and the unusual shapes had drawn his attention. It’s unlikely to be a perfect rendition but he knows it’s going to be very close.   
  
Evan stretches his back, wincing when something pops. The lab around him is much quieter, the lights dimmed low except the one illuminating his work and for a moment he thinks he’s completely alone.   
  
But no, Rodney is still there, sitting at one of the side monitors, fingers flying across the keyboard. As if sensing he’s been watched, he chooses that moment to look up.   
  
“Finished?” he asks, getting up and ambling over.   
  
Evan nods and is about to say something when Rodney’s hand rests on his shoulder and he’s leaning over him to have a look. “Oh, you are,” he says, and he’s close enough that his jacket sleeve brushes against Evan’s face. “This is really good.” The compliment is casual and leaves no room for thanks until Rodney moves on. “I’ll get the others back and we can start figuring this out.”  
  
Evan nods but for a moment neither of them moves. He is acutely aware of the way the very tips of Rodney’s fingers are resting almost at the nape of his neck, imagines what it would be like if they moved, deliberately stroking up into his hair or curling around to tilt his head up and…  
  
He shivers.   
  
Rodney snatches his hand away as if burned. “Oh, I…” He swallows audibly. “I’m sorry.” This one is brusque, impersonal. “Great work, Major. Thank you.”   
  
The dismissal is obvious. Evan barely manages to mutter a goodbye before he beats a hasty retreat out of there, feeling humiliated by his reaction, his lack of control over it, over himself. God, what must Rodney think?  
  
  
***   
  
  
It’s a question that remains rhetorical for a while. Turns out that the Mural Room, as Evan had dubbed it in his head, is indeed storage. Of sorts. It’s just that what it stores isn’t anything physical. It is, morbidly enough, the voices of the dead. Quite literally in fact.   
  
“The anthropologists are near pissing themselves in excitement,” Sheppard tells him over a late lunch a few days later. “Rodney and Radek and others from that end of the science spectrum too, they’re just less obvious about it. Quite a few of the voices belonged to the Ancient physicists and mathematicians and biologists and so on.”   
  
Evan and Sheppard share a grin. The mess is nearly deserted thanks to the lull between lunch and dinner. Evan admits it’s also a time he’s purposefully aimed for over the last couple of days. It’s not that he’s _avoiding_ McKay, just… minimising the chances of running into him.   
  
Being signed off has helped with that. Beckett had bluntly told him that if he wanted to keep his hearing from being permanently damaged, he needed to keep away from any potentially loud noises for a while. And whilst the screech of the Mural Room had quietened down – having apparently simply gone into overdrive after millennia of dormancy – active duty came with a high risk of explosions and weapons discharge.  
  
Too bad his CO is not as easily circumvented as gunfights or the head of science. When Evan had turned up to his extremely late bowlful of surprise stew today, Sheppard had been waiting for him, seamlessly sliding behind him into a queue of two at the service station.   
  
And really, Evan is good enough soldier to admit when he’s been outmanoeuvred. Especially by a superior officer.   
  
Hence their current catch-up slash mission debriefing. So far, Sheppard has kept the chatter to the Mural Room and other Atlantis business Evan in all fairness actually does need to know in preparation for returning to duty.   
  
“Beckett’s cleared you now, right?” the Lieutenant Colonel asks, scraping the bottom of his bowl.   
  
“Yes, sir,” Evan replies. His own meal is still only half-eaten and likely to remain that way. “I’m back starting from tomorrow.”  
  
“Excellent.” Sheppard drops his spoon onto the tray and leans back, radiating relaxed casualness. He even laces his hands behind his head and crosses his legs, the bastard.   
  
The alarm bells in Evan’s head start ringing. He’s got a feeling that the proverbial other shoe is about to drop. Probably right in his lap with all the delicacy of an anvil.  
  
“Does that mean you’re going to pull your head out of your ass then?” Sheppard asks, nonchalant as you please.  
  
Evan’s own spoon clatters from his suddenly nerveless fingers. “Sir?” His spine straightens from its half-slouch.   
  
“Look, I don’t know what happened, or didn’t happen, or almost happened between you and McKay…” Sheppard leans forward, chair legs snapping back to the floor with a bang. Only years of training and active combat keep Evan from flinching at the sound.  
  
“I do know he’s not always the best at social cues but he can’t apologise if you don’t give him the chance! So, for the sake of my team, I’m asking you…” Sheppard frowns, trailing off mid-sentence. He tilts his head to the side and regards Evan in silence.   
  
“Okay. Based on the slack look of incomprehension on your face, I’m thinking we may have some crossed wires here,” he says.   
  
“Sir…” Evan has no idea how to finish the sentence though so he… just doesn’t.   
  
Sheppard gives him a full minute but it’s a minute that’s filled with nothing but mutual staring. Evan honestly tries to scrape together a… a sentence, a question even, but his mind feels like it’s filled with carousel music and panic.   
  
“I genuinely thought you’d be better at this than Rodney,” Sheppard finally says, in tones that somehow convey both disappointment and deep amusement.   
  
“Nothing happened!” Evan blurts out and then has to suppress the urge to stuff a fist into his mouth. Christ, could he sound any guiltier if he tried? “I mean… There’s nothing Dr McKay needs to apologise to me for, sir. I don’t know why you got that idea, sir? Did he say something?” Evan forcibly swallows the last instinctual ‘sir’ because Sheppard isn’t too fond of it at the best of times, which this very distinctly is not.   
  
Sheppard tilts his head in the other direction as if Evan is an abstract painting that needs to be examined from several angles to make sense of it. “No… McKay didn’t say anything.”  
  
Evan honestly isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed.   
  
“But contrary to some people, I do actually have more than two braincells to rub together,” Sheppard continues. “And he’s been prickly as fuck since we left you playing artist and his muse at the lab the other night, and now no one’s seen you for three days and no, don’t even!” He holds up a hand to stall Evan’s protests before they leave his mouth. “Being on sick leave is one thing, suddenly turning into a ghost is something else entirely. Did you know that your team is worried about you? I gather you haven’t contacted them at all these last few days. Do they even know you’re back on gate rotation from tomorrow?”  
  
Okay, now Evan feels like shit. “No,” he admits, sitting at full attention now. The only thing keeping him in his chair is the fact that Sheppard hasn’t made any move to get up and he doesn’t think looming over his commanding officer is going to improve the situation.   
  
“Major Lorne…” Sheppard sighs. “Evan. I’m not giving you an official reprimand here. In fact, I’m not even talking as your CO right now – although, at least contact Cadman would you, before she takes matters into her own hands and breaks into your quarters – but as a…” He falters a bit, barely noticeable except for how Evan is on full alert right now, but then carries on smoothly. “As a friend. McKay’s at least, if not yours.”  
  
Evan jerks his head in something approximating a nod.   
  
Sheppard’s gaze softens. “So, whatever happened, or didn’t, between you two…” he says. “Sort it out.” With that he gets up, picking up his lunch tray and leaving Evan sitting alone with his thoughts.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan honestly tries to heed Sheppard’s advice. Order?   
  
His team is easy. He calls everyone later that afternoon, ensuring tonight’s dinner is a shared one. They take over one of the mess hall tables for several hours while Kusanagi catches everyone up on what the voices of the dead ancients have been telling – a surprising amount of petty gossip it turns out, amidst the genuinely useful information about culture and technology. Parrish waxes poetic about the planet they are due to visit in two days’ time and Cadman beats all of them at poker, only giving Evan a couple of sharp comments about his disappearing act.   
  
All in all, it’s a good night and Evan feels lucky to have the team he has.   
  
When they finally go their separate ways, he thinks about making it a home run and tracking down McKay the very same night too and… Well, he’s not sure what, but saying hi seems like a start. However, a glance at the time tells him that it’s too late for casual visits, even though he’s pretty sure Rodney is still up and probably still working in his lab too. Best to leave it for tomorrow.   
  
Except tomorrow turns out to be highly uncooperative.   
  
McKay is not at breakfast, which in itself isn’t unusual but Evan would have preferred to do this somewhere public with minimum opportunity for prolonged awkwardness. Still, a promise is a promise. He grabs a couple of the Athosian pastries he knows Rodney is fond of and heads to the science labs.   
  
No McKay there either, though Radek and Miko are happy to accept his food offering.   
  
“I think he’s in hangar eleven,” Zelenka says, wiping crumbs off his shirt. “I can check for you?” His hand is already heading toward his communicator.  
  
“No!” Evan smiles, trying to soften his tone. “It’s nothing urgent. I’m sure I’ll catch him later.”  
  
Radek slowly lowers his arm, eyebrow quirked. “If you’re sure,” he says, but thankfully doesn’t ask any questions.   
  
After that Evan is out of time for now as his shift has officially started and he needs to jog in order not to be late for the scheduled mission briefing.   
  
The rest of the day is relentless. He ends up skipping lunch again but this time not out of choice. There’s an accident during one of the training exercises and after ensuring the unfortunate private makes it to the sickbay safely he gets distracted by trying to solve the various logistics puzzles that have piled up on his desk while he was off duty. When Evan finally looks up from his laptop, he’s late for training with his own team and has to double time it to the gym. It’s obviously not something he can miss, not after just managing to make some sort of amends for his radio silence.   
  
He’s ravenous afterwards, and one of the first in the dinner queue… And one of the last still lingering in the mess after most people have scattered. When it’s obvious that McKay is skipping a meal, he heads back to the labs.   
  
There’s only Kusanagi there, arguing passionately with another scientist who Evan doesn’t know that well although his memory produces a name attached to the face: Ofasu.   
  
The two of them seem to be having a good time of it, parrying back and forth, and even amidst his personal anxiety Evan is pleased to see how downright pushy Miko is being. Something to mention to Rodney later. Once he finds the man!  
  
“Oh!” Ofasu spots him first, his grin smoothing into something blander. “Major Lorne, can we help you?”  
  
Evan waves a hand. “Don’t mind me,” he says. “Just looking for Dr McKay. Has either of you…?”  
  
“He’s gone to the mainland,” Kusanagi says. “The Athosian settlement contacted Dr Weir earlier, asking for a consultation and since there is nothing terribly urgent going on, he and Dr Zelenka both decided to go. They are staying overnight.”  
  
“Oh,” Evan says, aiming for nonchalant but clearly unable to mask his disappointment as the smile on Miko’s face tips toward sympathetic. “Thanks, Miko,” he calls and takes his leave before she has a chance to actually say something.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan is not the Atlantis 2IC for nothing, so he finds out when Rodney and Radek are due to return without actually having to ask anyone, and plants himself in the vicinity of the shuttle bay the following afternoon. It’s a plan that would have worked well, except there is no shuttle and when he finally caves and make some inquiries, it transpires that the problem on the mainland has turned out to be… Well, not more serious as such, but certainly more ‘intriguing’ than originally assumed. Apparently, Parrish tells him before he too flies over to consult, that’s a direct quote.   
  
Evan feels like beating his head against the nearest wall. He goes for a run instead and doesn’t return to his quarters until he’s tired enough that he’s shaking. Then he falls face first into his bunk, without even changing out of his sweaty clothes.   
  
  
***   
  
  
That turns out to be a tactical error because he wakes up reeking to high heaven and with Sheppard pounding on his door.   
  
“Lorne!” he shouts. “I’m giving you a count of five and then I’m coming in.”  
  
Evan almost falls out of the bed in his haste to get up.   
  
“One!”  
  
He scrambles around and finds his communicator under the bed, switched off. Shit.  
  
“Two! Are you dead? You better not be dead or I swear to God…”   
  
Evan runs a hand through his hair, which is a mistake because it gives him a whiff of his own armpit and he almost gags. He really needs to shower and change but…  
  
“Three!”  
  
There’s no time.   
  
“Four!”  
  
Evan presses his palm to the door release. Sheppard almost tumbles in, having clearly been leaning on the doors.   
  
“What the hell, Major?” he asks, and yeah, okay, this is what it sounds like when Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard is about to chew you out.  
  
“Sorry, sir!” Evan snaps to attention and almost salutes, but then he remembers his current eau de twenty-mile jog and decides that keeping his arms tight to his sides is the better part of valour. “My communicator got turned off during the night. I didn’t think I would sleep in through my alarm.”  
  
“You haven’t,” Sheppard says. “It’s early still.” He narrows his eyes, taking in Evan’s less than stellar appearance. “Tell me you’re not hungover. Because if I need to find someone else for this mission, I’m going to be pissed off.”  
  
“I’m not hungover, sir,” Evan promises. “What mission, sir?”  
  
“Get geared up, Major,” Sheppard says, already turning to leave. “Mission brief in twenty.”  
  
Evan takes the fastest shower of his life. He’s still struggling into his tactical vest by the time he rounds the corner to the conference room… And almost runs right into Rodney.   
  
“McKay!” he exclaims, too rattled to keep control of his tone. “You’re back?”  
  
“…Major,” Rodney greets him. “I… Yeah, for all of five minutes.”  
  
Evan frowns but Weir’s voice derails any questions. “Gentlemen,” she calls. “If you’ve quite finished your little tête-à-tête?”  
  
Rodney’s neck flushes but Evan has no time to figure out whether that’s in anger, embarrassment or something else. Weir is already seated, Cadman and Kusanagi on one side of her, Sheppard and his team on the other. Evan opts to ignore his CO’s raised eyebrow and wordlessly takes his own seat, Rodney dropping down next to Miko.  
  
  
***   
  
  
The situation is straightforward enough, which in Atlantis terms means it’s far from ideal but they’ve got to deal with it anyway.   
  
Apparently, Ladon Radim, the current leader of the Genii wants to talk. As far as Pegasus diplomatic relations go, that’s a biggie and requires both Weir and Sheppard and a sizeable security contingent gating to a neutral location later today. However – because like busses, two situations come along at once – Atlantis has also received a call for help from Belkan, especially requesting someone with scientific expertise.   
  
The end result is split teams. Sheppard and Teyla will go with Weir, whilst Lorne and Cadman are sent off to guard McKay and Kusanagi while they figure out what’s happening on Belkan. Parrish is still on the mainland with Zelenka. Ronon comes as close to dithering as Evan has ever seen but eventually opts to go with Sheppard. The Belkan situation doesn’t sound like a life or death type of emergency and there’s nothing to indicate it specifically involves the Satedans settled there.  
  
Sheppard is understandably harried, getting the security together for the Genii meet but he still takes the time to clap Evan on the shoulder and raise his eyebrows meaningfully at him. “Sort it, Major,” he says, squeezing harder than is strictly speaking friendly, before heading to the armoury.   
  
Okay, maybe his commanding officer has a point. Maybe there’s a silver lining to this and maybe whatever is happening on Belkan will be sorted quickly and there’ll be an opportunity for a casual chat whilst strolling through the marketplace.   
  
  
***   
  
  
They are running full tilt through the marketplace.   
  
Evan narrowly misses tripping over a barrel of fruit while up ahead he can see Cadman and Kusanagi getting briefly tangled in a display of fabrics. Thinking on her feet as usual, Cadman liberates one and wraps it around herself and Miko, drawing the disgruntled stall owner into a discussion over the price whilst effectively disguising them both.  
  
“This… is not… my fault!” McKay pants behind him, managing to sound indignant despite gasping for breath.   
  
Distantly, Evan is impressed. Rodney may deny and grumble about it, but his time on the field has clearly done wonders for his fitness levels if he can run and complain at the same time now.   
  
The shouting behind them grows louder.   
  
“This way, c’mon!” He grabs Rodney by the sleeve and ducks them both into one of the side alleys.   
  
For a heart-stopping moment, Evan thinks they’ve hit a dead end but then he sees the doorway, a worn sign with a scratched picture of a wine jug above it. This will do.   
  
They slip inside.   
  
The tavern is clearly one of the less reputable ones, fast sliding towards downright seedy. Right now, that works to their advantage as it means two strangers rushing in doesn’t cause more than a few blurry glances. Evan hunches his shoulders and steers the two of them to one of the small tables at the back, eternally grateful that they are both wearing Athosian coats rather than the Atlantis expedition uniform. It had been Weir’s last-minute suggestion, seeing as they were here on a consulting mission.  
  
“Do you have any local currency?” Evan asks, keeping his voice low.   
  
McKay, who has slumped over the table, wheezing, gestures vaguely at his pockets.   
  
Evan grits his teeth and goes rummaging, resolutely ignoring the warmth of Rodney’s body on just the other side of the thin lining, or the way his breathing seems to catch abruptly when Evan’s fingers slip into the breast pocket when the main ones are empty.   
  
He pulls out a coin pouch, not particularly heavy but hopefully with enough in there for two drinks. Whilst the place is the kind where no one asks questions, Evan has no doubt that they would be tossed out on their asses if they were sitting here dry-mouthed.   
  
“Be right back,” he whispers. “Keep an eye on the door, but if the Hallonans come in, do nothing.”  
  
Rodney nods but doesn’t quite meet Evan’s eyes.   
  
He sighs but doesn’t push it, instead going to the bar.   
  
It’s been less than two days since they arrived on Belkan. The city officials had acquired – by means which probably weren’t quite legitimate but there was no actual evidence, so not much they could do except keep an open mind – some bastardised Ancient technology and needed a second opinion. Or a first one, really, since none of the locals had been able to activate it. McKay and Kusanagi had been happily distracted by the tech and Evan had been half-heartedly bartering the price to take it back to Atlantis once Weir had told him to try but not to push it. Belkans were valued trading partners and the tech probably wasn’t anything they didn’t already have on Atlantis, even if they didn’t know exactly which of the hundreds of still unexplored rooms and sections it might be in.   
  
Their recent dash notwithstanding, there had been no opportunity for leisurely marketplace strolls, or private discussions. He and Cadman took shifts to stay with the scientists, but Rodney had remained so focused on the work, apart from brief periods of unconsciousness in the middle, that there had been no real opening. In fact, he’d told Evan to stop being paranoid, that they were perfectly safe and there was no reason to hover constantly, why didn’t he just go and see the sights.   
  
Evan had bitten down on the reply about enjoying the sights fine just here and stayed put.   
  
Which was just as well, because about an hour ago a group of Hallonan soldiers – ex-soldiers, current mercenaries if Evan was to hazard a guess – had wandered into the same warehouse, spotted McKay and drawn weapons.   
  
As far as Evan could tell, it had been an unfortunate coincidence, and not some kind of elaborate double-cross by the Belkans. Which was partly why he had chosen to grab McKay and Kusanagi, radio Cadman and make a run for it rather than fight it out. Too bad the Hallonans were not as willing to let bygones be bygones. Seems that once you accidentally play oracle and almost start a war, nor everyone is willing to forgive and forget. Evan is not sure whether it would be better or worse if the mercenaries has been from Geldar but he’s not willing to stick around and ask.  
  
Evan returns to the table with two tankards of something that looks like dirty dishwater and doesn’t smell much better. A cautious sip has him coughing though. Whatever the drink is, it sure packs a punch.   
  
“I’m not drinking that,” Rodney says, pushing his cup away.   
  
Evan pushes it right back. “Then pretend.”   
  
He takes another look around. The place is dim and filled with talk and occasional laughter. In the corner, an elderly man is playing some kind of instrument that sounds like a toned-down version of bagpipes. Maybe he should tell Beckett to come and visit.   
  
Evan’s second survey also reveals a surprising number of amorous couples in all combinations. There is a lot of soft murmuring and lingering touches happening. In the corner opposite theirs, a middle-aged woman is hand-feeding crumbs from some dish or another to a strikingly pretty man at least twenty years her junior. A few tables from them, two men are kissing with fervour. After a while, they get up and head towards a staircase at the back.  
  
Well. Evan shifts uncomfortably on his seat.  
  
He’s no intelligence operative but this isn’t a particularly difficult equation to solve. He’d bet good money that the drink he just purchased isn’t actually the tavern’s main business.   
  
“Is this…?” Next to him Rodney has finally stopped panting and clearly also taken a proper look at their surroundings. “Did you bring me to a _brothel?_ ” he hisses at Evan.  
  
“Not on _purpose_ ,” Evan hisses back. “Not like we had a lot of choice. Let’s just hope…”   
  
Hope alone rarely gets you anywhere, Evan’s learned, and this time proves the same. The tavern door opens and one of the Hallonan mercenaries who had been chasing them steps in.   
  
“Fuck,” Evan curses and then does something he knows he’s probably going to regret later. But not as much as he would regret the diplomatic mess getting into a firefight in the middle of a Belkan brothel would likely result in. “Don’t react,” he tells Rodney.  
  
Evan nudges the table out of the way, gets off his own seat, swings a leg over Rodney’s lap and straddles him. All in one smooth movement. The chair under them creaks with their combined weight but holds. Evan curls over Rodney, tucking the man’s head against his own shoulder for good measure and effectively blocking him from view.   
  
Under him, McKay has gone rigid with shock, his muscles locked in what Evan fervently hopes is just surprise and not a prelude to him being violently tossed to the floor. For one, that would definitely draw the Hallonan’s attention. For two, Evan doesn’t want to experience a rejection quite that unequivocal.   
  
“I’m sorry about this,” he whispers, winding his arms around Rodney’s neck and grabbing the back of the chair as much for balance as for moral support. “It was the best way I could think to hide you. Hopefully he’ll overlook us and leave.”  
  
McKay remains still and silent for a couple more heartbeats but then all of a sudden his whole body relaxes, posture flowing into a frankly indecent sprawl. In response, Evan slides even closer, their hips now snug, chests pressed tightly together. It feels… _amazing_.   
  
Fuck.  
  
“Alright,” Rodney says. His breath is warm and damp against Evan’s neck and his hands come to rest tentatively on Evan’s hips.   
  
And okay, okay, this is good, more natural. They need to look the part and stiffly sitting there, unmoving, is not going to cut it, not unless the mercenary is a complete moron.   
  
No sooner has he thought that than Rodney runs a hand up his spine in a slow caress that makes Evan inhale sharply in surprise, his body tucking even closer on pure instinct.   
  
“I’m sorry,” McKay murmurs. “You said… Shit! He’s looking this way.”   
  
With a jolt Evan realises Rodney is doing his best to peek over his shoulder, which is kind of understandable given their situation but also rather defeats the point. As leisurely as he can, he reaches over and guides Rodney’s head close to his, cupping his face with both hands. Their foreheads are resting against each other and Evan tilts his head to an angle that leaves their noses brushing. To anyone watching they look like they’re kissing, close enough that Evan can smell the sweat on Rodney’s neck, their breaths mingling warmly in the scant space between their mouths.   
  
Rodney’s eyes are wide open and dark with shock. His hands drop back to Evan’s waist and grip tight enough to wrench a surprised grunt from his throat.  
  
“Major…” McKay’s gaze drops noticeably, and he _licks his lips_ and Evan is going to _die_ except, except… Rodney sounds _miserable_. “You’re not playing fair,” he says, his mouth pressing into a thin, unhappy line.  
  
“What?” Evan blinks in alarm. He knew what he did was a bit outside the rulebook but needs must and he didn’t think Rodney would be this upset about it. “I’m… I don’t…” He would get off but the Hallonan is presumably still surveying the tavern and the only thing that would make the situation worse is to have it been for nothing.   
  
“I know you don’t _mean_ anything by it, Major,” Rodney snaps, managing to convey annoyance even in a whisper. “I know you’re just being _kind_ and doing your _job_ , but I’d actually rather you didn’t, because I’m not good at interpreting these kinds of cues in the first place and frankly, you’re sending an awful lot of mixed messages so if you wouldn’t mind…” He takes a deep breath and then shoves at Evan, hard enough to make him reel. “He’s gone,” McKay says. “You can get off me now.”  
  
Evan scrambles to his feet. His thoughts are in disarray, but training takes over and he turns around to verify and luckily finds the tavern devoid of any mercenaries. By the time he turns back to Rodney, the other man is already standing as well, determinedly avoiding Evan’s eyes.   
  
“Shall we go find Cadman and Kusanagi?” he suggests, straightening his clothes. “It might be better if Zelenka or someone replaces me on this particular assignment.” With that he heads to the door.   
  
Evan is left with no choice but to follow.   
  
  
***   
  
  
McKay’s assessment proves correct and Miko takes Ofasu with her when they return to Belkan the next day, Evan and Cadman in tow. Luckily for everyone, that particular Hallonan mercenary group hadn’t made any friends on Belkan so the incident is brushed under the carpet easily enough, especially as the city officials are still keen to retain their Lantean scientific consults.   
  
The downside is that Evan is stuck on Belkan for another week with no chance of clearing the air with McKay. He’s frankly amazed Sheppard doesn’t personally gate over to kick his ass, seeming as he’s somehow managed to do the opposite of ‘sorting it’.   
  
There are no more dashes through the marketplace or unexpected confrontations, so the week does give Evan plenty of time to think.   
  
It is possible, he reflects, watching Kusanagi and Ofasu flirt-argue about the best way to test something or other, just _possible_ , that the problem he _thought_ he had, is _not_ the problem he in fact _has_.   
  
And it is also possible, that said problem is not solely his.   
  
And maybe, just maybe, he really needs to do something about it.   
  
Actually, scratch that, he _definitely_ needs to do something about it. Not least because if he doesn’t, his commanding officer is liable to kick him off Atlantis’ highest tower.   
  
  
***   
  
  
It’s no surprise that Sheppard is in fact waiting for him in the gate room when the four of them finally return from Belkan, Kusanagi flushed with the success of restoring the artefact to its former glory and maybe a little because Ofasu had finally gathered his courage to ask her to dinner that night.   
  
“I _know_ ,” Evan tells Sheppard before the man gets further than a testy ‘Major!’ “I know. I’m on it. Tonight,” he promises.  
  
  
***   
  
  
The thing about public promises is that they are that much harder to break. So, despite the growing infestation of butterflies in his stomach, Evan grits his teeth through the mission debrief, a couple of hours of paperwork, a shower and a change into civvies. By the time he’s changed his t-shirt twice – and it’s not like there’s a lot to choose from – he’s run out of excuses to delay any longer.  
  
He goes by McKay’s labs first but is kind of relieved to find them empty. It’s not the kind of conversation he wants to have with an audience.   
  
The next logical stop is McKay’s quarters. He hasn’t quite decided whether he wants Rodney to be in or not, weighing the pros and cons of complete privacy versus a more neutral location, when the doors slide open.   
  
Rodney seems honestly surprised to see him and it takes a few seconds for the polite mask to slip into place.   
  
“Major Lorne,” he says. “You’re back. What can I do for you?”   
  
Evan swallows down the first five, slightly hysterical and definitely R-rated suggestions his mind comes up with. “Dr McKay,” he says, aiming for friendly and casual but too nervous to really pull it off. “I’ve got a problem I think maybe you’ll be able to help me with. May I come in?”  
  
Rodney’s expression goes from blank to mildly intrigued. Wordlessly he gestures at Evan to step inside.   
  
He’s never been to McKay’s rooms before and can’t help a long curious look around. They are tidier than he somehow expected, only the bedsheets look rumpled and messy and like they might still be warm from Rodney’s body. But… No, it’s too early for that and McKay is too alert to have been woken up from sleep.   
  
“You said you had a problem?” Rodney’s voice snaps Evan’s attention back and he flushes slightly, realising that he’d been staring at McKay’s bed for what was probably longer than strictly polite.   
  
“Ah. Yes.” He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to continue. He hadn’t really scripted this conversation beyond his opening statement. Doing so had felt like courting disaster.   
  
“Well? What is it?” Rodney finally prompts. “Out with it Major, I don’t have all evening. There are plenty of things—”  
  
“On Belkan,” Evan interrupts, and Rodney’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence almost audibly. “On Belkan you said…”  
  
“It is _not_ a problem!” Rodney sounds vehement now and the miserable tilt of his mouth is back. “I know what I said, but I was wrong. My feelings aren’t your _responsibility_.” Rodney is waving his arms agitatedly. “I’m not one of those creeps who… who accuses people of _leading them on_ or something.”   
  
“But what if I have been?” Evan asks, unable to stop the smile that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth. Rodney’s words all but confirm it. He’s been a bit of an idiot and Sheppard was right to keep smacking his head about it. The butterflies in his stomach turn into bubbles of joy and anticipation. Because if he can just get Rodney to understand… “What if I have been leading you on?”  
  
Rodney gapes at him, his mouth hanging open in a way that is not nearly as unattractive as it should by all rights be. “What? You… You’ve been… _on purpose?_ Why would you _do that?_ ” Inexplicably, he looks like Evan just slapped him on the face, hunching in on himself a little. “If this is some kind of fun game to you, Major, then I’ll have you know I’ve been played by far better men and—”   
  
“Oh!” Evan suddenly realises the root of the misunderstanding. “Oh, shit, no! No, I would never…” He takes a step forward, tentatively laying a hand on Rodney’s forearm, now defensively wrapped around his middle. “Listen, please…” Evan takes a deep breath and pushes away his instinctual anger at anyone who’s ever played with McKay like this, because now is not the time. “I didn’t mean ‘leading on’ like teasing for fun or… or humiliation.”  
  
Rodney’s shoulders come down maybe half an inch. “What then?”  
  
“Well, I…” Evan resists the urge to shuffle his feet. “I meant more like… ‘getting your attention’ and ‘doing nice things for you’ and ‘being near you’ because…” He makes himself look Rodney square in the eye for this. “Because I like you. God, that makes me sound like a schoolkid.” He huffs at himself a little in frustration. “I’m interested. In you.”  
  
They stare at each other in silence for three heartbeats, Evan’s hand still resting on Rodney’s arm. He’s just thinking maybe he should withdraw it and give Rodney some space, when Rodney’s defensive posture relaxes and his arms fall down to his sides, causing Evan’s grip to loosen.   
  
“You are?” Rodney asks, somehow sounding genuinely bewildered, like such an outcome had never once occurred to him. “Are you sure?”  
  
Evan laughs. “Yes, I’m sure.” He heroically manages not to roll his eyes. “Been sure for a while, just… too chicken shit to say anything. Didn’t think I had any kind of chance.” He shrugs.   
  
“You…” Rodney shakes his head. “Oh my God, have you _seen_ yourself? Why _wouldn’t_ I…? I mean… With the… the gifts, and the flirting. And it was flirting, ha! I was right! Okay, so I thought I was probably wrong but turns out I wasn’t after all so points for me.” Rodney is grinning openly now, hands back to weaving complicated patterns between them.   
  
Evan can only grin back, helplessly.   
  
“And then!” Rodney says. “On Belkan, with the ‘oh no, we must hide from the bad man, I’ll just climb into your _lap_ for _camouflage_.’ What was I supposed to think? What was I supposed to _do?_ ”  
  
“You could… You could show me now, if you wanted to?” Evan suggests, feeling bold and undeniably turned on. It’s like the conversation had cleared up the layer of guilt and confusion from the memory of what happened, or almost happened, on Belkan and now all he can think of is Rodney’s sturdy body under his, the effortless way his big hands had spanned Evan’s hips.   
  
“I… You want to?” Rodney’s gaze slides to his messy bed, seemingly of its own volition. “ _Now?_ ”  
  
“Only if you do,” Evan says, and fuck his voice has dropped to an intimate rumble. “I definitely want to take you on a date too. Well, as close to it as we can get here. Meal in the mess… Or in my quarters? Walk on the East pier? Jaunt to one of the planets with sexy tech for you to play with? Whatever you want…” He trails off, and slowly reaches out and brushes his fingers over the inside of Rodney’s arm, the corner of his jaw. “We can do all of that first. Or…” He lets his thumb dip into the corner of Rodney’s mouth, the little twist that’s been driving him crazy for the last few months. “Or we can do it _after_.”  
  
“You…” The word comes out on an exhale, long and a bit wobbly. “Fuck,” Rodney says then, grabs Evan by the front of his t-shirt and hauls him in for a kiss.  
  
It’s somehow even _better_ than he’d imagined and, Evan can admit this now, he’d imagined it _a lot_. Rodney is enthusiastic and _handsy_ , his fingers creeping into Evan’s hair, nails scratching at his nape in a way that is making his whole body shiver with want and his mouth open helplessly under Rodney’s onslaught. They both groan at the contact, tongues sliding together in a slow drag, one kiss turning into another, and then another, until Evan can feel his chest starting to hurt from lack of oxygen. He pulls off enough to gasp a shaky “C’mon, show me,” as he gently nudges Rodney toward the bed.   
  
With a huff Rodney sits down and Evan wastes no time in climbing on top of him, straddling his lap again, except this time there’s a soft mattress under his knees and something decidedly _hard_ nudging against his ass when he settles his weight down.   
  
“Oh _fuck_ ,” Rodney says with something like reverence in his voice. Just like before his hands fly up to steady Evan, except this time there are no bulky jackets or mercenaries and Rodney’s hands slide right under Evan’s shirt, fingertips dragging up to knead the muscles at his back and then _down_ , dipping under the waistband of his pants just enough to tease. “Fuck,” he repeats. “You were serious.”  
  
“Very.” Evan nods fervently, ducking low to capture Rodney’s mouth again. The movement rocks their hips together and yeah, okay, they’re definitely doing this right now. “Honestly?” he pants between kisses, rolling his hips forward again. “I would’ve done this at the tavern if you’d given any indication…”  
  
“Jesus, _Evan!_ ” Rodney’s fingers slide further down and grab Evan’s ass with purpose now, pulling him forward. “You can’t just _say_ something like that!”  
  
Evan would disagree, given the kind of results his words are getting, but he’s too busy rubbing himself against the hard ridge of Rodney’s erection. “Can I? I want to…” He slips a hand into the narrow space between their hips and traces the shape of Rodney’s cock through his pants, revelling in the way it makes his eyes glaze over with lust. “Please?” he asks, hooking his fingers around the top button.   
  
“Yes,” Rodney says, “ _God_ , yes,” and then he leans down and bites the tender flesh at the base of Evan’s throat, just sharp enough to cause Evan’s fingers to go clumsy, clumsier as he eases open Rodney’s fly, then his own.   
  
He’s left to do most of the work because Rodney’s hands are still preoccupied with kneading Evan’s ass, the now open waistband meaning his grip slides even lower, fingers digging into the sensitive crease of his thigh, nudging at the back of his balls, skating close enough to his opening to make him flush hot, the sense of urgency ratcheting up further.  
  
Evan pulls out both of their cocks, groaning at the sight. He licks his palm and then on impulse turns it to Rodney who does the same with no hesitation, his tongue dragging wetly over his flesh and dipping between his fingers in a way that is positively _filthy_. God, Evan is going to have to get that mouth on him at some point soon and maybe if he asks very, very nicely… And it’s not like he wouldn’t want to reciprocate because the way Rodney’s cock fills his hand, hot and thick, already wet at the tip, makes Evan’s mouth water.   
  
It takes a few strokes for them to find their rhythm but when they do all bets are off much quicker than befits two men of their age. Maybe it’s the sheer relief after months of low-key simmering and worry, but Evan finds himself hurtling toward release within minutes, fucking gracelessly into his own fist, Rodney’s cock equally hard next to his.   
  
“ _Evan_ , fuck, you…” Rodney gasps, mouthing at his shoulder wetly.   
  
And maybe it’s hearing his name like that, slurred and lust thick, or maybe it’s the way Rodney’s middle finger presses against his hole, blunt and dry but still so fucking good, but between one roll of his hips and the next Evan is coming.   
  
He can tell his mouth is moving but has no idea about the sounds coming out of it, only that he’s pushing them into the hot curve of Rodney’s neck, back taut and curved as he shudders through his release, moaning weakly when he feels Rodney follow him over the edge.   
  
  
***   
  
  
Evan ends up staying the night. It’s not strictly speaking a choice, simply that they both fall asleep after, still sticky and tangled together. By the time they wake it’s firmly in the middle of the night and it’s just easier to kick out of his clothes, crawl under the covers and pass out again, especially as Rodney grumbles something along the lines of “Get here and stop letting the cold air in.”  
  
The morning is surprisingly non-awkward. Or, to be more accurate, Evan can see the uncertainty trying to creep into Rodney’s eyes and the tilt of his mouth and proceeds to kiss it away in the most matter-of-fact manner possible.   
  
“Hey,” he says in between nosing at Rodney’s hairline, hands smoothing down his sides and delighting in the solid flesh they find. “What are your feelings on shared showers?”  
  
“Oh,” Rodney breathes, hips stuttering forward when Evan’s hands find his generous ass and squeeze. “Positive. Very positive.”  
  
They’re not even late for breakfast, getting to the mess in plenty of time before the official start of Evan’s shift, Rodney’s workday being more constant and flexible.   
  
“Pretty sure Zelenka can cope alone for one morning,” he comments, spooning porridge into his bowl.   
  
“Careful,” Evan comments with a grin. “Don’t want him hearing that kind of praise and getting a big head.”   
  
Rodney snorts and rolls his eyes, before passing over a mug of hot water and a bag of tea leaves. Evan notes with pleasure that Rodney had picked his favourite automatically, without having to ask.   
  
They’re still smiling stupidly at each other when Rodney’s eyes slide over Evan’s shoulder and then narrow, his expression shifting into wary suspicion.   
  
“What?” he asks, sounding both flustered and defensive.   
  
Evan turns around and finds Sheppard standing behind them, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. He looks both smug and delighted, kind of like someone had handed him a gift-wrapped alien jet and told him it was because he was the best pilot to fly it.  
  
“Sir,” Evan greets cautiously. “Morning.” To his horror, he can feel himself flushing.   
  
Sheppard’s grin grows wider. “Morning,” he says. “Looks to be a good one.”   
  
“John!” Rodney hisses, sounding like a scalded cat.   
  
“Rodney,” Sheppard acknowledges placidly. “I’ll see you at the briefing in the afternoon. And Major Lorne?”  
  
“Yes sir?” By now he’s suppressing a hysterical urge to giggle.   
  
“Knew I could count on you to sort it,” Sheppard says and claps him on the shoulder before ambling away, hands in his pockets.   
  
“Sort it? Sort out what?” Rodney demands, indignant. The tops of his ears are pink and he’s scowling after his team mate. “What is he talking about?”  
  
Evan kind of wants to kiss him right now. “Funny story actually,” he says, instead resting a hand between Rodney’s shoulder blades and gently nudging him toward the tables. “I’ll tell you over breakfast.”


End file.
